


Learning To Fly

by LilyK



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 01:56:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11453565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: Doyle is sick.





	Learning To Fly

A soul in tension that's learning to fly  
Condition grounded but determined to try  
\-- Pink Floyd-- 

I hate waking up in hospital under any circumstances. It's even worse waking up from anaesthesia with no memory of what happened or how you got there. That had been the case just eight or nine weeks ago when I woke up in Critical Care on a ventilator, with tubes and needles stuck in me everywhere. Not only could I not remember what had happened, but I was bloody uncomfortable as well. Just my luck. 

Now here I was yet again, waking up in hospital. But this time, I knew exactly what had happened. Not that I cared, mind you. 

Why couldn't I have just stayed asleep? Drifted away peacefully, with no pain? The idea of staying unaware - staying away - seemed to be just the ticket. Why did my body insist on waking up? Why was this happening to me? The thought that kept nagging at me was that all of this - everything - was my own sodding fault. 

Maybe if I stayed very still, very quiet, everybody would leave me alone. Leave me in peace and quiet. Leave me to wallow in my own misery, as Bo- As somebody once shouted at me, _I'll leave you to wallow in your own self pity._ I remember that quite clearly. 

_Don't think about him. Don't think about him. Don't thing about-_

The hand on my arm made me start, and I felt myself jerk in surprise. My eyes flew open. I was feeling a bit dodgy so I blurted out the one word I'd refused to utter for weeks. The one name that was always lurking in my brain. That wouldn't go away no matter how much I tried to convince myself that it didn't matter... 

"Bodie?" 

"No, laddie. It's Mr Cowley." 

I couldn't keep the disappointment from my voice when I said, "Oh." 

Cowley, for his part, gave me an encouraging smile and a curt nod. "How do you feel?" 

"Horrible," I muttered, wondering why the hell he bothered to ask. I knew I looked like shite. Trouble was, I didn't care. 

"No wonder, with what you've done to yourself. I put you on my squad because I always thought you were a capable, intelligent man. Now I'm rethinking that position quite seriously." 

I blinked in surprise and thought about defending myself, but then, all of that took so much effort, and right now, I didn't feel like even bothering. So I schooled my face into what I hoped was an off-putting glare and asked the expected. "What happened?" 

Cowley's somewhat mild demeanour faded quickly, and he was quite brusque when he stated, "As if you don't know." 

"Suit yourself." 

"Doyle... Why didn't you let Anson or Jax or Murphy in when they came round? We were all worried about you after you missed your last two sessions with Dr. Ross. This didn't have to happen. Susan was the one who said you'd speak to her. You always seemed to get on with her. When you didn't answer, she took it upon herself to pick your locks." 

"At least I had them locked this time," I said proudly. I'd done something right for a change. 

"Better than that last time. Laddie, you gave her a fright when she found you passed out on your bathroom floor. You gave me a fright as well. Maybe I'm getting too old for all of this," he added sadly. "The doctors say another couple of days and the pneumonia would have killed you. Is that what you wanted?" 

Our gazes held for a long moment before I gave a tired sigh. "I'm sorry." 

"If you were truly sorry, this wouldn't have happened, now, would it?" 

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" I spoke with as much animosity as I could manage. What did he know? 

Cowley raised an eyebrow. "In fact, I am going to let it go. You're a grown man, and I've done all that I can to help you. You can make your own decisions. You can ruin your own life. I can see you need no help in that regard. I just..." 

Cowley took a step back and rubbed at his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. When he glanced at me again, I was surprised to see how tired he looked. Old and tired. It gave me pause, but only for a moment. I didn't have the energy for compassion or concern right now for anybody. I didn't have the time or inclination to think about how Cowley was doing. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself, wasn't I? I was tired. Of all of it. Of going on each day. Of thinking. Of doing. Of breathing. Of being alone. 

_If I close my eyes, maybe I'll fall asleep. I'll stay asleep this time. I'll just drift along..._

"Doyle?" 

I stayed very still, and tried to breathe as if I were truly asleep. Maybe if he thought I was, he'd leave me alone. 

_Go away, George_ , I wanted to say. 

"Doyle, lad, this can't go on." 

Cowley's voice was once again full of compassion, which would have made me angry once, not that long ago. 

"Go away, George." There, I'd said it after all. Wasn't too hard, that. I'd managed those three little words, and I felt a tiny bit of satisfaction for even making the attempt and succeeding. I still had goals. 

"Not until you look at me. Not until I've had my say." 

Knowing that I'd get no peace until Cowley left, I let out a theatrically loud groan and opened my eyes. 

"What is it?" I said as coldly as I could. Had a good teacher in being an arrogant bastard. Could pull it off nicely, if I wanted. And until Cowley left me alone, I wanted. "Hurry up so I can get some sleep." 

Cowley's eyes narrowed and his lips pursed into this thin line. If I hadn't forgotten how to laugh, I could have busted a gut at the look on the old man's face. But I didn't bother with laughter any more. Hadn't for a while now. Not since- 

Don't think about it. Block it out. It's the only way to get by. If you call this getting by. I call it hell on Earth. And I'm so tired of it all. 

"Christ," I snapped, "get on with it, will you. Tell me what an arse I am. How I'm ruining my life. Go on. Do your worst." 

I don't know which look I preferred on Cowley's face: the anger, or the pity that suddenly replaced it. There was a time I'd have gone berserk at anybody who took pity on me. I decided that right now it was easier to ignore it. 

"The doctors say you'll survive if you start taking care of yourself," Cowley said. 

"Ta so very much for the news report," I said ungraciously. 

"Don't do this, laddie." 

I hated the concern, the caring that laced his words. I hated Cowley, and CI5, and London, and bloody Bo-

_Shit. Shit! Don't say it. Don't say it._ I repeated my mantra until I felt some measure of control leak back into my brain. Keep my mouth shut. That's the only way. Strong and silent, that's me. 

I sighed again and turned my head away, inspecting the ugly green wall beside my bed. The crack in the plaster looked like the boot of Italy. "When can I get out of here?" 

"Not until the infection is under control, and not until you've received hydration and nourishment. The doctors-" 

"Are we finished?" I asked, not bothering to look at Cowley. Mr Cowley. In another time, I would have been amused remembering how he always stressed the "Mr" part.

When was he going to leave? Was it too much to ask that old George hit the road so I could wallow in my misery alone? Wallow in my misery... I like that term. I've said it more times than I care to remember. Where've I heard that bit before? Oh, right. Already remembered that. It was in my flat. Long ago, in another time and place, heard it from somebody I thought cared about me. What a fool I'd been. 

"Aye, we're finished... except for one thing that I have to ask."

I waited, but when Cowley didn't continue, against my better judgement, I turned my head to look at him. He'd planted his hat on his head and stood beside the bed, waiting for God knows what. He shook his head when our gazes met. Guess he was waiting to be sure I was genuinely paying attention. He turned, walked to the door and pulled it open. Then he looked directly at me and asked, "Did you even bother to ask him to stay?" Before I could take another breath, he was gone. 

I lay there for a long while before I covered my face with my hands and grumbled, "Go away, George."

\----------------------------

I turned to my side and curled up as well as I could. There was an IV in my arm and oxygen in my nose, but, thankfully, not a lot of other medical crap. I willed myself to sleep so I wouldn't have to think about what Cowley'd said. 

But of course, the more I tried to block his parting words from my mind, the louder they became, until they were screaming in my head so intensely I was surprised the nurses didn't come running at the commotion. 

_Did you even bother to ask him to stay?_

I screwed my eyes shut and pleaded with myself to sleep, to fall into oblivion so that the pain in my head would stop. The pain in my heart would go away. Anything so that I didn't have to think, to feel. Breathing was hard enough. 

Coward. That's what I called myself. And it was the truth. I was a bloody coward, through and through. If I really wanted to admit the truth, then I might as well admit all of it. Might as well drag it out into the light of day and examine it in minute detail. Pick at it like a scab. Why not? What did I have to lose? Lost everything I cared about anyway. What could be worse? The only thing I had left was my life. Once, it was worth something. Now, I wasn't so sure. I turned onto my back. And remembered... 

I remembered how it hadn't taken long for everything to come to a head. Hadn't taken me long to fuck up. To drive him away. After I got released from hospital, it only took me two days. I'm quick, that much I can say. 

The doctors had finally set me free, saying that Kuolo's bullets had done their worst and it was up to me to do my best to get back on my feet. I was ready. Ready to go back to my life. To start living again. Being in hospital for four weeks makes a bloke grateful for the freedom of life outside those antiseptic walls. 

Now that I think about it, I realise I could have settled the entire mess with a few words. An apology. An explanation. But no, I was too fucking arrogant. Too stupid. Too busy being tough and manly. Macho, that's the word. What an arse I was. Still am, it seems. Or else I wouldn't be lying here in this damnable hospital, feeling like shit. I'd be with- 

I sighed and scrubbed at my face with my hands. Christ, I was thirsty. I poured a glass of water and drained it. Lying back, I knew I couldn't be a coward any longer. I had to make a decision. What's that American saying? Piss or get off the pot? Heard that from some FBI blokes who showed up during an investigation a few years back. The phrase makes a lot of sense to me now. 

I am not a coward. 

\-------------------------

I fucked over my best friend. My partner. The person who meant- means more to me than anybody else on this planet. I miss Bodie. 

There. I thought it. Now I'll say it. 

"I miss Bodie." 

I felt my throat tighten and my eyes prickle. I took in a shallow breath before I let it out very slowly. I did it a couple more times until I was back in control. Then I considered abandoning the idea of an examination of my own shortcomings. I could always do it later. Or not at all. 

But would take make me miss him any less? Would it help at all to hide from myself any longer? Guess not, I reckoned. Might as well get on with it. 

\-----------------------

I had made the remark to him... to Bodie, quite innocently. He'd picked up the laundry sack from Rita and we walked out of the shop. He asked me how it felt to be alive. To be back amongst the land of the living, if I remember correctly. After all, I'd been technically dead, he reminded me. I really didn't mean anything by my response. Just ribbing him when I said that next time it'd be easier. I remember he made a sort of choking sound, but he covered it up quickly with a bit of a chuckle. Then he shut up and didn't say another word until we got back to his place. 

He lit into me then. Went on about how it was selfish of me to think that I could just up and die without his permission. How he'd worried himself sick the whole time I was in hospital, and how he couldn't wait until I was back on the streets with him. He even accused me of wanting to die. Of being careless for not setting the locks that day. Called me a selfish bastard a couple of times, and his voice was all -- tight and shaky. I'd never heard that voice out of Bodie before. He'd taken my quip about that 'next time' seriously. Could he honestly believe I had a death wish? I thought he was taking the piss when he got right in my face and insisted I see Ross to get my head screwed on properly. I thought... He thought... Lots of 'thoughts' and no understanding, it seems. 

That's when my temper got the best of me. I knew when I did it that it wasn't right, what I was saying, but that didn't stop me. Haven't got an ounce of sense sometimes. So I got right back into his face and blasted him for interfering with my life. I yelled at him that nothing I did, including setting or not setting the locks, was his affair, and that if I wanted to pack it all in, it was my decision. 

Then he told me he was sorry he'd saved my pathetic arse. 

And I told him I was sorry he had as well. 

The next thing I knew, he was gone. 

Oh, he came by the next day and told me he was leaving. That Cowley'd approved his transfer. He was going over with Macklin to the training facility. And then he just stood there, shifting from one foot to the other. I was so angry and hurt that he'd actually leave. I felt abandoned and sick at heart. I wanted to beg him to stay, but that's when that manly rubbish I mentioned before reared its ugly head. I told myself he was running away, not me. What did he expect me to do? Get down on my knees and beg him to stay? Did he want declarations of fealty? 

Of love? 

I could see it in his eyes. He wanted to stay, but he wouldn't unless I showed him something he could hold onto. Kindness. Affection. Friendship. Commitment. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't show weakness, could I? I was strong and capable. Had my pride, you know. I didn't need bloody Bodie. So I looked right into his eyes and said, "Ta-ra, mate." 

I am an arsehole of the highest calibre. So, when I screw myself over, I make sure I do it properly, too. 

\----------------------------

Once Bodie turned and left, I felt my life leave with him. Sounds stupid, I know, but what can I say? Everything I wanted, everything I needed, walked out the door, and I didn't have the bollocks to ask him to stay. To help me work through the mess that was my life. To help me figure out why I'd been careless. To keep me safe until I was better. 

No. I just let it happen. I felt about two seconds of satisfaction, and since then, almost four weeks of not caring what happened to me one way or the other. I suppose Ross would say I was depressed. Guess I would agree. Really, though, I didn't stop eating by design. It just happened. Food has never been a driving force in my life. Not like with Bodie. I eat when I'm hungry, and because I wasn't hungry, I didn't eat. Plain forgot about it most of the time. Then when I started coughing, I ignored it. Not a smart plan. Got so bad I could hardly breathe, and that night I keeled over, it was a definite lack of oxygen that put me down. Was drowning in my own idiocy. Literally and figuratively. 

And where'd it get me? Right back in a hospital bed. How lovely. 

While I was mulling over my ratty life, one of the nurses came in and checked my vitals. Gave me a new set up of IV solution and a fresh pitcher of water. She tutted over me for a few minutes, then turned out the lights, leaving me a small night light. "In case you're frightened of the dark," she said with a smile and a pat to my arm. After admonishing me to get some rest, she left me in peace. With the fluids swirling around in my veins, I was feeling a lot less like death warmed over. I think the drugs helped some as well. Maybe I wanted to get better after all. 

I drifted along, dozing, and waking whenever I heard noises from the corridor. I must have finally fallen asleep because something suddenly woke me. My eyes flew open and I almost reached for my gun before I remembered where I was. That's when I realised that somebody was in the room with me. I could just make out a vague shape half-hidden in the shadows. 

I blinked quickly to clear the sleep from my eyes and stared into the dark. The shape moved towards the door. 

"Who- Bodie?" I didn't even try to keep the hopefulness from my voice. 

He hesitated and then stepped into the dim light. 

My heart thumped in my chest. He was here. I held my breath, drinking in the trim body, darkly serious eyes and pale face. 

I couldn't have looked away, even if I'd wanted to. 

His short, dark hair made a fringe on his forehead. I wish I could, just once, brush my fingers along that line of hair. To feel it touch my fingers. His strong hands – hands that I'd often wanted to touch me – were tucked into his jacket pockets. His lips were tight with worry. Lips that should be smiling. Kissing somebody he loved. 

"Bodie, thank God." 

"Taking up praying these days, Doyle?" 

"Where have you been?" 

Bodie gave me a puzzled look. I know he probably wanted to say, "As if you don't know." It was what I would have said, but not Bodie. He's got more class than that. 

He said, "Just came to see how you've been." 

"How'd you know? Never mind. Cowley always did have a slack mouth." 

"Since you seem to be all right, I'm off." 

There were a thousand things I could say. Things that I needed to say. Things Bodie might have wanted to hear. Instead what came out sounded daft, even defensive. "Why'd you come?" 

Christ, I'm a moron.

"Already said. Just to be sure you're still alive." 

"Could've phoned for that information, mate." 

Bodie suddenly looked pained, and he closed his eyes for a moment. When they opened, he shrugged, backing up as he glanced over his shoulder. I knew that he was leaving. _Well, do you blame him?_ my worthless inner self needled. 

Shut it!

Did I say that out loud? Jesus, I'm really losing it. When I finally managed to get myself back to some semblance of sanity, I looked over at Bodie. 

But he'd already left. 

\---------------------

I don't know exactly what happened to me right then. I think everything finally came to a head. My emotions were on the ragged edge anyway, and the thought that I'd once again fucked up my chance with Bodie made me sick to my stomach. My guts churned, and I knew that I'd blown the final attempt Bodie would ever make to get it right with me. 

I surged up from the bed and yelled at the top of my lungs, "Bodie! Bodie, don't go!" 

Then I completely forgot what a bloody idiot I am, and that, even on pure adrenalin, my legs weren't working all that great. I found my feet and took three lurching steps towards the door. My body went forward. My arm went back, tethered by the IV line that I'd forgotten about. The oxygen line dragged my head sideways, and I went down. Along with the IV stand, the pitcher of water on the night table, and a couple of glasses. 

The noise was loud enough to wake the dead. Or at least everybody on my floor. 

Water mixed with saline coated the floor and me. I floundered around, trying to get enough equilibrium to stand, but I was like a duck on ice and ended up sprawled out again. I started to panic. The only thing I could think about was that Bodie was leaving. And I had to stop him. I couldn't let him go. Not this time. I couldn't. 

"Bodie!" I shouted. But my lungs seemed to have had enough. I started coughing and couldn't catch my breath. I thought my chest was going to explode, and I couldn't do anything but lie there and hack horribly. 

The door flew open and I looked up, hopeful that it was Bodie, but instead, two nurses came rushing in. 

"What in God's name?" one said. 

"Mr Doyle?" the other added. 

I coughed again before I could finally ask, "Where is he? Where's Bodie? Bodie!" I called again, but I barely managed to get out his name before the coughing returned. 

"There's no one here, Mr Doyle. It's long past visiting hours. Come on now. Let's get you up. You've gone and hurt yourself." 

I glanced down at my hand, seeing the blood there. Must have cut it when I fell. I shrugged, not even feeling the wound. She clamped a hand under my elbow. 

"I've got to get out of here!" Between bouts of coughing, I tried to get up. With the nurses on either side, they managed to get me to my feet and I sagged between them, barely able to force my legs to hold my weight. But I'm a hard-headed bastard. I still struggled to get out of their clutches. "For God's sake! Let me go!" 

"Mr Doyle!" one of the women said. 

"Bodie!" 

"You'll wake the entire ward!" she told me before she said to the other nurse, "Let's get him to another room." When she reached out with one hand to open the door, I felt the second nurse's grip loosen a bit. I wrenched myself out of their grasp and stumbled into the hall, where I quite clumsily fell into a heap. 

"Ray?" 

"Bodie?" 

Strong hands helped me sit up and this time when I looked up, Bodie knelt before me, his hands wrapped around my upper arms. 

"Bodie?" 

"What in the hell are you trying to do? Kill yourself?" he snarled. "Christ, Doyle." 

"Bodie." My hands clutched at his jacket, and I latched onto the material with all my limited strength. I could see the blood from the cut on my palm smearing Bodie's nice leather lapels. I wondered if he'd be angry that I'd ruined his coat. 

"Bodie." Was that all I could say? I had something else to say. What was it? Oh, right. Say it fast, I told myself as Bodie's face started to waver before my eyes and the walls around us started to tilt. I felt really horrible, and I had a bad feeling that in about two seconds, I would be unconscious. If I didn't say it now, I might never have the chance again. I couldn't face waking up and finding he was gone. Couldn't live through that again. 

So I did what I had to do. I am not a coward. Not anymore, anyway. 

"Bodie, please don't go." 

I'm sure when I passed out, it wasn't at all graceful. 

\-----------------------

"You are such a great prat!" 

I lay ensconced on my sofa in my new flat, blanket tucked in firmly around me, cup of steaming hot tea in my hand and plate of two-inch-thick sandwiches within arms' reach on the coffee table. Bodie prowled about the room, letting me have it but good. I was thrilled. But then, finally getting out of hospital after wasting another week of precious life makes a fellow quite happy. And I was happy. Maybe I was figuring this out after all. 

"You never listen. You have the hardest head of anybody in the universe. And yes," he glared at me, "that includes all the other planets and galaxies in existence. You, Raymond, take the cake!" 

I smiled and nibbled the edges of a sandwich. Bodie'd made them especially for me, even cut off the crusts. The big softie. And he is a big softie. The nurses had told me that after I passed out that night in the corridor, Bodie was the one who scraped my sorry arse off the floor and got me onto a trolley. Gently, they said. He even patted my head. Women like that sort of thing, so they had no problem filling me in on all the details. They said they thought it was sweet. 

Sweet and Bodie. In the same sentence. Imagine that. 

I do remember that, when I woke up a few minutes later, the first thing I searched for was Bodie. And he was right there beside me. He scowled at me. I knew he had the right to be angry over how I'd been acting. How I'd been taking care of myself. More like _not_ taking care of myself. How I'd treated him as well. But I could see in his eyes he was relieved I was still alive. And I could see the affection he still carried for me reflected in them. I don't know what was wrong with me, but I couldn't stop blathering. I apologised so much that he finally snapped at me to shut it, but he ruffled my hair when he did. I almost cried with relief. Didn't though because-

"Are you listening to me?" 

I knew now was not the time to defend my honour, so I merely nodded. 

"Good." 

He seemed to lose a bit of steam then, and came over to sit down where he could look right at me. After he moved the plate of food, that is. 

"Ray," Bodie said seriously, "are you going to wise up?" 

I swallowed the bite I was chewing, took a sip of tea and then nodded. "Yes." 

"Great!" He smiled before he leaned forward, suspiciously eyeing me up and down. "You mean that?" 

"Wouldn't lie to you." 

Another minute of examination, then he said, "All right then. The doctors have released you, against their better judgement I'm sure, into my care. Cowley's agreed I'm to take you on since nobody else'd have you. So I'm setting the ground rules in this little army of ours. I'm the commander; you're the lowly ranks. You're to follow my instructions to the letter. Eat when I tell you. Sleep and take your pills when you're told. And you start talking to Dr Ross the second Cowley sets it up. Any questions?" 

Shaking my head, I said smartly, "You're such a pushy bastard." I already felt better than I had in weeks. Months, actually. 

"Doyle-" 

I could see a hint of hesitation in his eyes. It was my fault he bolted in the first place, so now it was my job to fix it. Wasn't right, asking Bodie to stay around back then and watch me die. Even I'd have left me, if I could have. I looked at Bodie with what I hoped was affection and sincerity. 

"It's all right, Bodie. I'm going to be okay. I'm just-" Say it, "happy you're here. Missed you like crazy." 

We looked at each other for what seemed to be forever. I managed to keep my mouth closed under Bodie's intense scrutiny. Apparently, I must have passed the test because he finally gave me a smile that was so wonderful I felt my emotions going barmy. I felt hot and chilled at the same time. My heart kicked inside my chest. Bloody tablets. Had to be. 

I looked down and fiddled with the tea cup, willing myself not to blubber. "Will you stay?" 

"I said yes, didn't I?" 

"That's not what I meant." There, I'd opened the door. Did he even realise what I was asking? And if he did, would he walk through? 

Bodie leaned forward. "I know what you mean." He waited until I looked up and then he gave me that smile of his. The one that makes my insides melt. That makes me want to fall into his arms. Well, if I was a bird, that is. Blokes don't fall into each other's arms now, do they. Shame. Would've been nice. 

I enjoyed the pleased look on Bodie's face. I was happy myself now that I'd decided that I wanted to stay around for a long while. Had a lot of things left to do, and dying didn't sound like such a good idea any more. 

"You're grinning like a moron," Bodie said. "All I said was I'd stay." 

"And I said that's not what I meant." 

He reached out and gave my arm a squeeze. "The answer is still yes." 

That was something. Not only was he staying, he'd agreed to stay with me. Guess that was as much of a declaration of love that I was going to get. I could try to live with that. Being best friends, partners, mates... 

Wrong again, it seems. Before I knew it, Bodie was on his knees next to me, his arms went around my shoulders and his lips met mine. I never hesitated, returning the tender kiss with equal care. His arms tightened and I let myself lean against him. It felt as good as I knew it would, being in his embrace. It was all right, after all, to fall into the arms of the one you love. 

His lips were soft and warm as they brushed mine. When we parted, both of us were breathing roughly. 

Bodie's hand brushed my cheek. "Ray," was all he said. But then, the way he said my name made me shiver. He didn't need to say anything else. 

"Promise?" I asked. 

"Promise," he answered. 

"Take me to bed." 

"When you're well." 

I groaned softly. "Tease." 

"No doubt," he said, giving me a lecherous grin. 

I couldn't help laughing with delight. "Bodie, if you keep looking at me like that, I'll never last a whole week." 

Bodie's smile turned softer -- sweeter -- as he reached out and touched my cheek. "Be worth it, mate."

"I'm sure this will go right to your head, but you're worth it. Worth waiting for. Worth -- loving." There, admitted it out loud. It made me feel good saying it.

I swear the sun rose in Bodie's eyes. He grinned at me with pure giddiness and leaned in to give me a quick kiss. When he moved back, he took my hand. "It's a gorgeous day out and the doctors said you were well enough to get out a bit if you feel up to it. What do you say we take a turn around the park? Put some colour back in those pale cheeks." 

"All right. Would be good to walk in the sunshine." 

"Good. I'll get our coats. You put your shoes on." Bodie rose and he stood looking down at me, smiling. 

"What?" 

"Nothing really. I'm just -- happy." 

"Go on, you crazy bastard, get the jackets." 

I pulled off the blanket and laced up my trainers. Things were going on just dandy. I would stay alive, and Bodie would stay as well. With me. Good decisions all around. We always did work better when we were together. 

Now we'd be together as we were meant to be. 

The End


End file.
